


Fifth Period

by collieparker



Category: South Park
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Slice of Life, maybe slight drama? no idea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-05-12 05:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19222441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collieparker/pseuds/collieparker
Summary: just some good ol' fluff on how millie and pete end up mattering so much to each other





	1. Subgenres

It wasn’t in her nature to overstep her boundaries. Knowing her place and remembering who she was wasn’t a foreign language to her in the slightest. However, for some strange, unspoken reason, Millie found herself indulging in a lifestyle that wasn’t her own, nor did she care to make her own, and definitely, positively, absolutely had never even thought about in a positive light until a boy started to sway her opinions.

She wasn’t going to let anyone know that a boy of all things had piqued her interest.

Almost feverishly, Millie found herself scouring subgenre after subgenre on Wikipedia of all places like her life depended on it. Mumbling away to herself in the corner of her bedroom, scrolling her thumb off with a sudden hyper-interest of Goth culture, she was just about ashamed that she was making a mental powerpoint of all this information. What the hell was NuGoth? She didn’t find herself on that page for too long. It didn’t seem relevant enough. Was cowboy goth a thing? She was a little too embarrassed to look that up. What if someone, anyone was looking over her shoulder reading off her phone behind her, despite being completely alone in her bedroom. Looking behind herself regardless, her shoulders then relaxed as she typed “cowboy goth” into the Google search bar, slowly, trying to convince herself that she wasn’t typing at all.

The results loaded, and even if it seemed to be a thing, Millie still found it hard to stifle her laughter as she scrolled through images, some serious, some completely joking. She wasn’t too sure what to make of it.

“This must be what Pete’s trying to get at…” She mused to herself. The boy in question, Pete, wore a bolo tie with every outfit. She couldn’t tell if that was a hint to being a cowboy goth or not, but it seemed like his three other goth friends were hitting more of a classic style rather than trying to fit into any subgenre. Maybe Pete really wanted a black cowboy hat but couldn’t find the courage to tell his friends that. Maybe it was up to Millie to give him one. Was that even an appropriate gesture? She hardly knew the guy. Besides sitting next to him in her English class and getting him to crack a presumably genuine smile with every joke she made, she didn’t really know him at all. 

Through some general observance, she could piece together some basics. Pete wasn’t nice. Well, actually, sometimes he could be, but not to everyone. She’d catch him walking down the school hallways, looming over the other students, occasionally barking at them to tell them to ‘mind their own fucking business’ or to ‘go back to Woodstock’ or whatever was grating him on the newest trends among the popular kids. Though it seemed like any time they accidentally bumped into each other in the hallway, or made eye contact, or even happened to say anything to each other, Pete’s entire disposition would relax, his expression softened, and she’d even hear some sort of relief in his voice rather than strain and annoyance. He told Millie she was ‘almost too nice’ anytime they were together, ‘it didn’t seem forced.’ She didn’t want to take that to heart, however, because half the time, her bubbliness was just to keep up her appearance. 

Millie glanced out her window--The trailer park in which Pete lived at was just across the street. It seemed a bit unfair that one of the poorer neighborhoods should be across the street from one of the richer, but South Park didn’t really seem to be the most morally sound town. She’d always catch Pete leaving for school in the morning--That is, if he went at all. It felt like there were more mornings that not that he didn’t show up at all, though maybe Millie was thinking too hard about it. Maybe those days just seemed to last a little longer. 

She hardly even knew the guy. Why did it matter that much to her?


	2. 15 Minutes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i hate explaining things

“Y’know, Mills, I never really understood how we ended up in the same English class, considering I’m, like, top of the class and everything.”

“You’re _not_ top of the class, I don’t even think you’re in the top ten, are you?”

Bradley Biggle always came into class smelling like peanut butter and AXE, not in any means to impress anybody, but to distract from the fact that his so called ‘manly scent’ overwhelmed the classroom if he didn’t douse himself in body spray beforehand. He rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair, and metaphorically flipping his hair over his shoulder, “I am in my heart. Why should Gregory stay in the top ten best students? Y’know, I bet he’s a total bottom, I can see it.”

“You said the same thing about Chris Donnely last week. Kyle, too! Are you trying to overcompensate here? Big dicks go harder than big brains or something?” Millie chuckled to herself, definitely not being funny at all, and started pulling out supplies as the fifth period bell rang. 

The teacher hadn’t shown up quite yet, and already the murmur of the ‘15 minute’ rule had started rumbling throughout the classroom. That rule about the teacher not showing up to class after 15 meaning students could leave always felt just a little bit wrong to Millie. Not only was the teacher not here yet, but poor Pete hadn’t made his So-What-If-I’m-10-Minutes-Late grand entrance yet. She’d always wondered where Pete found such huge balls as to walk in late all the time, looking like he’d just woken up from a nap, cranky, to say the least, but she found it endearing in a way.

“Stop talking about my dick,” Bradley had responded a bit too late, “Listen, once my balls drop it’s all over for your love affair with Pete.”

“You don’t even like girls!”

“I didn’t say I was dicking _you_ down.”

Millie wretched at the slightest idea of Bradley and Pete having a secret love affair. Those two had a strong disdain for each other since the beginning of time--Or, whenever it was that Henrietta decided that goth was who she was and summoned a gaggle of goths to follow her around. The tension that surrounded Millie every fifth period was almost too much to handle with those two on either side of her.

The seat to her right sat empty, and every so often her eyes would dart towards it, impatient with every second that passed. Their teacher still hadn’t come even after five minutes, and the murmur of excited students grew louder, just counting down the minutes as if they expected to get anything out of this. Teachers always miraculously showed up at the 14 minute mark, so Millie found it a waste to get so excited about leaving--Plus, she loved learning. Even if no one else stayed past that 15 minutes, Millie would still go out of her way to snoop around her textbook in the empty classroom to try and figure out just what they were meant to learn that day.

“10 minutes, y’all!” A voice called from the back. Millie glanced behind her to see just who had spoken, but all the voices started pounding in her ears to the point where she couldn’t even remember what the voice had sounded like.

The classroom door slammed open, and conversation fell flat as everyone, including Millie, had whirled around to see who just sauntered in. Poorly dyed hair, self-inflicted piercings, and an unimpressed expression silently, grumpily made its way to the empty seat next to her.

“Pete!” Millie exclaimed after having followed him with her eyes across the classroom, the roar of students starting back up again, “I didn’t see you leave for school this morning, where have you been?”

“I just got here,” Pete tossed his bangs out of his eyes, giving her what seemed to be a genuine smirk. He pulled out a pencil, only a pencil, out of his pocket and began tapping the eraser side on his desk. Millie wondered how anyone could get through the school year without all their textbooks, a binder for each class, 18 pencils, white-out, unnecessary stickers, scissors, a planner, and a 64 pack of Crayola crayons like Pete could. He slumped down in his chair, now staring straight ahead, “I forgot to set my alarm.”

“It’s 2:30 PM.”

“Yeah, well.”

Smiling to herself, Millie looked back down at her 3-ring English binder, writing her name and the date in the top right corner on a sheet of loose leaf. 8 minutes, 7 minutes, 6 minutes to go. The roar had just become white noise now. To be frank, the idea that everyone was getting ready to leave made her anxious, even if she knew no one would be leaving any time soon. Bradley, himself, started stuffing his things back into his backpack, his stuff being a composition notebook with a rainbow of dicks drawn all over the cover and a bag of doritos.

“It was nice knowing you, Mills,” He announced, “But it looks like we’re off on a new chapter of our lives here.”

“No, no no,” Millie had reached out at Bradley as he began to stand up, drowning in the anxiety of being left alone with Pete at a time like this, “You still have 5 minutes to go, Bradley, I feel like it’s sort of illegal to leave, isn’t it? Pete, tell him he can’t.”

Pete glanced over at Bradley, now with a stone cold expression that Millie swore could cut into Bradley like open heart surgery. With an undertone of relief that his friend’s shitty little brother was on his way out, he simply crossed his arms and shrugged, “I really couldn’t care less, honestly.”

Whatever magic word he’d just spoken, their teacher, who needn’t a name, had finally come in, trying to act like he wasn’t actually late, sweating like he’d just ran a 10k. No explanation whatsoever, but a sudden outburst of boos filled the room as everyone settled back into their seats and started getting their pencils and binders out. _Uncomfortable,_ Millie thought, _I don’t know what they expected._

Word had come around the classroom about the piece of toilet paper laying stagnant in the doorway just after his arrival, hushed rumours starting about that Myers kid having broken out of juvy yet again, and attacked their teacher while he was on his way to class. Other rumours about Mr. IBS, or how he just came off of Air Force One, etcetera, etcetera, but they had soon become drowned out once the subject of a partnered book report had started.

“I’ve already assigned your partners,” Mr. IBS had stated before excitement of free choice could begin, “There is one group of three because of the odd number of students…”

As he started explaining the rules (any regular novel, no children’s books or picture books, nothing considered “Mature”, that sort of thing.), the assigned partners began to fall into conversation. Craig and Butters, Token and Lola, Isla and Red, Bradley had been paired with Clyde, to which they both celebrated at the top of their lungs and immediately flocked together on the other side of the classroom. _It’s so funny how it’s obvious they’re soulmates,_ Millie mused to herself, resting her cheek on her palm, _Do they know?_ The longer it took for Millie’s name to come up, the more worried she had gotten. Almost everybody she was friends with in class had been paired up together, and the amount of kids she secretly didn’t like waiting to be called on was outraging. Thankfully, they were mostly paired with each other.

“Millie and Pete…”

Oh, thank god.


	3. The Book Report

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it is what it is

Wait. Oh _no._

Sure, sure she was interested in getting to know him, but she didn’t want to dive head first into it. _Gradually,_ she thought, _Gradually! I could never just crash land into someone’s life like that, not in a million years, what if he doesn’t like me? What if I don’t like him? What am I gonna do--_

Pete cleared his throat and set his gaze on Millie, looking almost satisfied with the teacher’s decision. He turned in his seat to face her, however, she kept her focus on her piece of paper which, besides the aforementioned name and date, only read BOOK REPORT in small, capital letters. She scribbled out the words _‘Partner: Pete Thelman’_ just underneath. Once the partners had been announced, Pete had leaned over to see Millie’s paper.

“You know my last name, huh?”

Millie jolted upright, now bringing her focus to Pete, not necessarily to his eyes, but to the bridge of his nose, thinking she might turn to stone if she made eye contact. Maybe even a big, mushy pile, “I mean, we’ve been going to the same school since 3rd grade, right?”

“Dunno yours.”

She smiled, hesitantly opening her mouth to speak, but taking an extra second for anything to come out, “Larsen, my last name is Larsen.”

“ _Larsen?_ Kinda plain.”

He had a point. Millie always thought she could make her stage name her first and middle name, or give herself a different last name, or just trash her dream entirely with a name like Larsen. Larsen didn’t fit the famous ticket, it seemed like nowadays everyone needed to have a unique, interesting, or straight up fake name to get into the business. She’d gotten pretty far on Larsen, but she didn’t want it to stick for much longer. She was almost a Malkinson at one point, but it ended pretty quickly. Not to mention a Stoley, a Broflovski, and even a Donovan. She didn’t like to think about it too hard.

“Um,” Trying to clear the air, Millie changed the subject, “What, uh, what book should we do? I feel like that’s maybe a good place to start. What books do you read?”

Pete laughed, full out, for the first time in Millie’s presence. She didn’t want to go further into her vague romantic interest any more than she already had, but he sure wasn’t helping, being cute and having a sweet laugh among everything else. His laughter eventually died out, and he cleared his throat once again, “Uh, huh, I don’t really read, Larsen.”

Millie raised her eyebrows at him in vague judgement. She wasn’t a big novel reader herself, but she sure did indulge in reading plays, something she was all too familiar with. She racked her brain up with possibilities, not being able to even imagine they had anything in common, “Do you have a favourite movie? Maybe there’s a book about it!”

Pete playfully pondered her question, going as far as to lean back in his seat and scratch his metaphorical beard in a sarcastic fit of brooding. Absolutely trying to bother her on purpose, he stared thoughtfully at the ceiling, “I’unno, Larsen, it might be a little too much for you to handle. You squeamish?”

“Just tell me!”

“Fine, fine,” he grinned, putting his hands up for unnecessary emphasis. He breathed in as if he was about to throw out the most amazing thing Millie had ever heard, but then dropped his hands back down into his lap, a neutral expression encompassing him, “It’s _Misery._ ”

A loud, sarcastic chortle burst out of Millie, and she rested her chin back on the palm of her hand, “That’s not even that scary! I know I look, sound, and act like a 12 year old, but I promise you I’m old enough to handle that.”

“Yeah, but the scene with the _ankles._ ”

“And?”

An eruption of laughter burst out on the other side of the room, and Pete narrowed his eyes in the direction of Bradley, Clyde, and Bebe Stevens, who totally looked like they were having the time of their life. Pete muttered something inaudible but hostile before looking down at his desk. Maybe something about lack of volume control was what got him? Maybe it was a deep rooted anxiety about popular kids (and Bradley) having a pseudo sense of power in a high school setting? In the lore of her school career, Millie had always been grouped in with the most popular girls in school, but after a good few years of not being able to keep up with them quite right, she ended up drifting apart by the end of middle school. She didn’t want to say she felt the same way about the popular kids as Pete did, but she did understand the discomfort with the fun they always seemed to have without her, like she was never part of the crew in the first place. 

Millie started mindlessly scribbling in the margins of her paper, “It’s kinda loud in here, isn’t it?”

“Thanks to those complete posers over there, yeah.”

“Do you want to maybe take this conversation after school?”

Pete only nodded, beginning to tap his pencil on his desk again. Millie ripped off a piece of her notebook paper and hastily scribbled out her phone number onto it, and passed it to him.

“We can meet in the library after school! If I’m late, don’t be afraid to call me!”


	4. The Library, Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i haven't posted in a while :/

Of course she was late. 

What with all her scrambling out of 6th period, running to the opposite side of the school building to get to her locker, getting a call from her job and having to answer while making a mad dash to the restroom, and running into Kevin Stoley and having an in depth conversation but as quick as could be about the Game of Thrones finale that she hadn’t even seen, Millie was out of breath and discombobulated by the time she made it to the front door of the library. It’d been a whopping 28 minutes since school let out, but Pete hadn’t made a call or sent a text. 

She felt her heart fall out of her ass and just about turned back around to start heading home, but decided to brave it and go in, and if he wasn’t in there, she was confident she could successfully play it off in some way, shape, or form.

The library was never busy, almost always completely deserted after school. Occasionally Millie could find a classmate or two sitting at one of the computers, but no one ever seemed to check out books or make actual use of the study space. After some kids found out that PopTropica wasn’t blocked by the school’s system, kids were making accounts left and right in the computer room, and they’d occasionally filter into the library to bully those innocent children online. But the only other person in there besides her, the librarian, and God’s watchful eye was Dougie O’Connell at a computer, staring lifelessly at a Wikipedia page listing animals with fraudulent diplomas. Millie debated snapping him out of it, but figured it wasn’t really worth her time. She turned away from the otherwise barren computer area, and tried peering down each row of books looking for Pete oh-so discreetly. 

Pete had been hanging out in the nonfiction section, perusing the Language books with pseudo interest, nose deep in a book when Millie had finally found him. She almost walked right past him on purpose, but swallowed her anxiety and approached him, “Hey, hi! I’m sorry I’m late, thanks for waiting!”

A warm grin spread across Pete’s face for just a moment as he glanced at her before putting a German book back on the shelf and shrugging, “S’fine. I almost called, but figured there was a reason.”

Millie smiled back with newfound confidence, “Do you speak German?”

“No.”

“Oh,” Millie wondered if it was really worth asking about further, and readjusted her backpack. She nodded in the direction of the study area, a couple of old, vacant armchairs separated by a poorly assembled, overexerted end table, “You wanna get started?”

They made their way over, sitting down with a vaguely unconfident air surrounding them. Millie pulled her 3-ring binder from her backpack and opened it up to the terrible doodles from earlier and her one whole note from class. Pete was already making himself comfortable, slumping down in his seat, his knees sticking out into Millie’s personal bubble, but she paid no mind to it whatsoever. He picked at his chipped black nailpolish as she got herself situated, and she felt him staring at her, almost like daggers. Her heart began pounding with nerves, and her body started to warm up with each second she spent getting all set up.

“Is that your natural hair colour?” Pete questioned, unprompted. Millie looked up at him once she was ready to go, almost purplexed. He was messing around with an unwashed strand of his shittily dyed black fringe, now mostly focused on that, but still darting his eyes over to her every so often.

Vaguely offended, Millie nodded. She ran a hand through her own strawberry blonde hair with concern. They’d known each other since elementary school, if she’d been bleaching her roots and dying her hair at all this entire time she’d have shittier hair than he did, was he that unobservant? Why was she thinking about this so hard? She furrowed her brow, “Yeah, it is. Why?”

“I dye my roots red, I always thought redheads had it best, I guess. I have brown hair, but I haven’t seen it in a good few years.”

“I’ve always thought of mine as a light orange. Is that a thing?”

Pete chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. Immediately, Millie started feeling the weight of anxiety leave her chest. This was fine. She could get along with a cute, seemingly hostile boy just swimmingly without having to really think about it. She knew that, the initial fear just always seemed to keep a grip on her. Or maybe he just had a cute laugh and she was trying to convince herself that all she needed to do was keep him laugh to make this whole situation work. Probably, but hopefully not, the latter.

“I guess so.” Pete played with the strings of his bolo tie as conversation drew on, which brought Millie back to the whole goth cowboy thing. Looking at him this close, she settled on something incredibly important: He would absolutely look adorable in a black cowboy hat. Was that appropriate to tell him? Did she care? She didn’t do all that research the night before for no reason. 

It almost spilled out of her, but she remembered they were there to work. Maybe later.

“So. Misery,” Milly began, placing the sheet of paper she had started writing and doodling on earlier in class on the end table between them. Pete looked down at the crudely drawn self portrait she had created with a vague look of judgement on his otherwise neutral face. She was no artist, sure, but that didn’t mean she was looking for criticism. Her eyes darted from the paper to his own eyes, and she pursed her lips in such a way, as if to signal her discomfort. Crumpling up the paper, she took another piece of loose leaf out of her 3-ring binder and placed it between them yet again, “Uh, so we’re deciding on that?”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“What?”

“This,” Pete picked up the crumpled piece of paper with what looked like the gentlest of touches and unwrapped it to get another look at the drawing, “I mean, you didn’t give yourself a nose… Or ears, but, like, it’s cute.”

Horror beamed straight out of Milly’s eyes, reaching desperately for the paper, which had Pete holding it out of her reach. She had half a mind to climb over her chair, the end table, and his poor, unsuspecting lap just to get it back, but she remained seated as to not make a scene, “Are you gonna give that back now?!”

A shush came from none other than Dougie O’Connell, who was still on the other side of the library zoning out into weird Wikipedia pages. It wasn’t like he was doing anything of importance, but Milly still felt a wave of embarrassment come over her. She put her previously extended arm down and shrunk back into her chair.

Pete smiled, folding the paper neatly and sticking it into his breast pocket, “No, I like it. I think I’ll keep it. Misery is fine.”

“...Okay, good.”


End file.
